Chapter XXIII.

by James Fenimore Cooper

　　Why is that graceful female here With yon red hunter of the deer? Of gentle mien and shape, she seems For civil halls design'd; Yet with the stately savage walks, As she were of his kind. --Pinkney.The family at Castle Meal saw nothing of any Indian until the daythat succeeded the council. Gershom and Dorothy received the tidingsof their sister's marriage with very little emotion. It was an eventthey expected; and as for bride-cake and ceremonies, of one therewas none at all, and of the other no more than has been mentioned.The relatives of Margery did not break their hearts on account ofthe neglect with which they had been treated, but received the youngcouple as if one had given her away, and the other "had pulled offher glove," as young ladies now express it, in deference to the actthat generally gives the coup de grace to youthful femalefriendships. On the Openings, neither time nor breath is wasted inuseless compliments; and all was held to be well done on thisoccasion, because it was done legally. A question might have beenraised, indeed, whether that marriage had taken place under theAmerican, or under the English flag; for General Hull, insurrendering Detroit, had included the entire territory of Michigan,as well as troops present, troops absent, and troops on the march tojoin him. Had he been in possession of Peter's ruthless secret,which we happen to know he was not, he could not have been moreanxious to throw the mantle of British authority around all of hisrace on that remote frontier, than he proved himself to be. Still,it is to be presumed that the marriage would have been regarded aslegal; conquered territories usually preserving their laws andusages for a time, at least. A little joking passed, as a matter ofcourse; for this is de rigueur in all marriages, except in the casesof the most cultivated; and certainly neither the corporal norGershom belonged to the elite of human society.

　　About the hour of breakfast Pigeonswing came in, as if returningfrom one of his ordinary hunts. He brought with him venison, as wellas several wild ducks that he had killed in the Kalamazoo, and threeor four prairie hens. The Chippewa never betrayed exultation at thesuccess of his exertions, but on this occasion he actually appearedsad. Dorothy received his game, and as she took the ducks and otherfowls, she spoke to him.

　　"Thank you, Pigeonswing," said the young matron. "No pale-face couldbe a better provider, and many are not one-half as good."

　　"What provider mean, eh?" demanded the literal-minded savage. "Meangood; mean bad, eh?"

　　"Oh! it means good, of course. I could say nothing against a hunterwho takes so good care of us all."

　　"What he mean, den?"

　　"It means a man who keeps his wife and children well supplied withfood."

　　"You get 'nough, eh?"

　　"I get enough, Pigeonswing, thanks to your industry, such as it is.Injin diet, however, is not always the best for Christian folk,though a body may live on it. I miss many things, out here in theOpenings, to which I have been used all the early part of my life."

　　"What squaw miss, eh? P'raps Injin find him sometime."

　　"I thank you, Pigeonswing, with all my heart, and am just asgrateful for your good intentions, as I should be was you to do allyou wish. It is the mind that makes the marcy, and not always thedeed. But you can never find the food of a pale-face kitchen outhere in the Openings of Michigan. When a body comes to reckon up allthe good things of Ameriky, she don't know where to begin, or whereto stop. I miss tea as much as anything. And milk comes next. Thenthere's buckwheat and coffee--though things may be found in thewoods to make coffee of, but tea has no substitute. Then, I likewheaten bread, and butter, and potatoes, and many other sucharticles, that I was used to all my life, until I came out here,close to sunset. As for pies and custards, I can't bear to think of'em now!"

　　Pigeonswing looked intently at the woman, as she carefullyenumerated her favorites among the dishes of her home-kitchen. Whenshe had ended, he raised a finger, looked still more significantlyat her, and said:

　　"Why don't go back, get all dem good t'ings? Better for pale-face toeat pale-face food, and leave Injin Injin food."

　　"For my part, Pigeonswing, I wish such had ever been the law.Venison, and prairie-fowls, and wild ducks, and trout, arid bear'smeat, and wild pigeons, and the fish that are to be found in thesewestern rivers, are all good for them that was brought up on 'em,but they tire an eastern palate dreadfully. Give me roast beef anyday before buffalo's hump, and a good barn-yard fowl before all thegame-birds that ever flew."

　　"Yes; dat de way pale-face squaw feel. Bess go back, and get whatshe like. Bess go quick as she can--go today."

　　"I'm in no such hurry, Pigeonswing, and I like these Openings wellenough to stay a while longer, and see what all these Injins, thatthey tell me are about 'em, mean to do. Now we are fairly among yourpeople, and on good terms with them, it is wisest to stay where weare. These are war-times, and travelling is dangerous, they tellme. When Gershom and Bourdon are ready to start, I shall be ready."

　　"Bess get ready, now," rejoined Pigeonswing; who, having given thisadvice with point, as to manner, proceeded to the spring, where heknelt and slaked his thirst. The manner of the Chippewa was such asto attract the attention of the missionary, who, full of his theory,imagined that this desire to get rid of the whites was, in some wayor other, connected with a reluctance in the Indians to confessthemselves Jews. He had been quite as much surprised as he wasdisappointed, with the backwardness of the chiefs in accepting thistradition, and was now in a state of mind that predisposed him toimpute everything to this one cause.

　　"I hope, Pigeonswing," he said to the Chippewa, whom he had followedto the spring--"I hope, Pigeonswing, that no offence has been takenby the chiefs on account of what I told them yesterday, concerningtheir being Jews. It is what I think, and it is an honor to belongto God's chosen people, and in no sense a disgrace. I hope nooffence has been taken on account of my telling the chief they areJews."

　　"Don't care any t'ing 'bout it," answered the literal Indian, risingfrom his kneeling position, and wiping his mouth with the back ofhis hand. "Don't care wedder Jew, or wedder Indian."

　　"For my own part, gladly would I have it to say that I am descendedfrom Israel."

　　"Why don't say him, if he make you grad? Good to be grad. All Injinlove to be grad."

　　"Because I cannot say it with truth. No; I come of the Gentiles, andnot of the Hebrews, else would I glory in saying I am a Jew, in thesense of extraction, though not now in the sense of faith. I trustthe chiefs will not take offence at my telling them just what Ithink."

　　"Tell you he don't care," returned Pigeonswing, a little crustily."Don't care if Jew--don't care if Injin. Know dat make nodifference. Hunting-ground just same--game just same--scalps justsame. Make no difference, and don't care."

　　"I am glad of this--but why did you advise Dorothy to quit theOpenings in the hasty manner you did, if all is right with thechiefs? It is not good to start on a journey without preparation andprayer. Why, then, did you give this advice to Dorothy to quit theOpenings so soon?"

　　"Bess for squaw to go home, when Injin dig up hatchet. Openin' fullof warrior--prairie full of warrior--wood full of warrior. When datso, bess for squaw to go home."

　　"This would be true, were the Indians our enemies. Heaven bepraised, they are our friends, and will not harm us. Peter is agreat chief, and can make his young men do what he tells them; andPeter is our friend. With Peter to stand by us, and a mercifulProvidence to direct us where, when, and how to go, we can havenothing to fear. I trust in Divine Providence."

　　"Who he be?" asked Pigeonswing, innocently, for his knowledge ofEnglish did not extend far enough to comprehend a phrase socomplicated, though so familiar to ourselves. "He know all paths,eh?"

　　"Yes; and directs us on all paths--more especially such as are forour good."

　　"Bess get him to tell you path into Detroit. Dat good path, now, forall pale-faces."

　　On uttering this advice, which he did also somewhat pointedly, theChippewa left the spring, and walked toward the kennel of Hive,where the bee-hunter was busy feeding his old companion.

　　"You're welcome back, Pigeonswing," the last cordially remarked,without pausing in his occupation, however. "I saw that you came inloaded, as usual. Have you left any dead game in the Openings, forme to go and back in with you?"

　　"You open ear, Bourdon--you know what Injin say," returned theChippewa, earnestly. "When dog get 'nough come wid me. Got somet'ingto tell. Bess hear it, when he can hear it"

　　"You'll find me ready enough in a minute. There, Hive, my goodfellow, that ought to satisfy any reasonable dog, and I've neverfound you unreasonable yet. Well, Chippewa, here I am, with my earswide open--stop, I've a bit of news, first, for your ears. Do youknow, Pigeonswing, my good fellow, that I am married?"

　　"Marry, eh? Got squaw, eh? Where you get him?"

　　"Here, to be sure--where else should I get her? There is but onegirl in these Openings that I would ask to be my wife, and she hasbeen asked, and answered, yes. Parson Amen married us, yesterday, onour way in from Prairie Round; so that puts me on a footing withyourself. When you boast of your squaw that you've left in yourwigwam, I can boast of mine that I have here. Margery is a girl toboast of, too!"

　　"Yes; good squaw, dat. Like dat squaw pretty well. Nebber seebetter. Bess keep squaw alway in his own wigwam."

　　"Well, mine is in my own wigwam. Castle Meal is my property, and shedoes it honor."

　　"Dat an't what Injin mean. Mean dis. Bess have wigwam at home, dere,where pale-face lives, and bess keep squaw in dat wigwam. Where mysquaw, eh? She home, in my wigwam--take care of pappoose, hoe corn,and keep ground good. So bess wid white squaw--bess home, at work."

　　"I believe I understand what you mean, Pigeon. Well, home we mean togo, before the winter sets in, and when matters have a littlesettled down between the English and Yankees. It isn't safetravelling, just now, in Michigan--you must own that, yourself, mygood fellow."

　　The Indian appeared at a loss, now, how to express himself further.On one side was his faith to his color, and his dread of Peter andthe great chiefs; on the other, his strong regard for the bee-hunter. He pondered a moment, and then took his own manner ofcommunicating that which he wished to say. The fact that his friendwas married made no great difference in his advice, for the Indianwas much too shrewd an observer not to have detected the bee-hunter's attachment. He had not supposed it possible to separate hisfriend from the family of Gershom, though he did suppose there wouldbe less difficulty in getting him to go on a path different fromthat which the missionary and corporal might take. His own greatpurpose was to serve le Bourdon, and how many or how few mightincidentally profit by it he did not care. The truth compels us toown, that even Margery's charms, and nature, and warm-heartedinterest in all around her, had failed to make any impression on hismarble-like feelings; while the bee-hunter's habits, skill in hiscraft, and close connection with himself at the mouth of the river,and more especially in liberating him from his enemies, had unitedhim in a comrade's friendship with her husband. It was a littlesingular that this Chippewa did not fall into Peter's superstitiousdread of the bee-hunter's necromancy, though he was aware of allthat had passed the previous day on the prairie. Either on accountof his greater familiarity with le Bourdon's habits, or because hewas in the secret of the trick of the whiskey-spring, or from acloser knowledge of white men and their ways, this young Indian wasfreer from apprehensions of this nature, perhaps, than any one ofthe same color and origin within many miles of the spot. In a word,Pigeons-wing regarded the bee-hunter as his friend, while he lookedupon the other pale-faces as so many persons thrown by accident inhis company. Now that Margery had actually become his friend'ssquaw, his interest in her was somewhat increased; though she hadnever obtained that interest in his feelings that she had awakenedin the breast of Peter, by her attentions to him, her gentleness,light-hearted gayety, and womanly care, and all without the leastdesign on her own part.

　　"No," answered the Chippewa, after a moment's reflection, "no verysafe for Yankee, or Yankee Injin. Don't t'ink my scalp very safe, ifchief know'd I'm Yankee runner. Bess alway to keep scalp safe. DemPottawattamie I take care not to see. Know all about 'em, too. Knowwhat he say--know what he do--b'lieve I know what he t'ink."

　　"I did not see you, Pigeon, among the red young men, yesterday, outon Prairie Round."

　　"Know too much to go dere. Crowsfeather and Pottawattamie out dere.Bess not go near dem when dey have eye open. Take 'em asleep. Datbess way wid sich Injin. Catch 'em some time! But your ear open,Bourdon?"

　　"Wide open, my good friend--what have you to whisper in it?"

　　"You look hard at Peter when he come in. If he t'ink good deal, anddon't say much, when he do speak, mind what he say. If he smile, andvery much friend, must hab his scalp."

　　"Chippewa, Peter is my friend, lives in my cabin, and eats of mybread! The hand that touches him, touches me."

　　"Which bess, eh--his scalp, or your'n? If he very much friend whenhe comes in, his scalp muss come off, or your'n. Yes, juss so. Datde way. Know Injin better dan you know him, Bourdon. You good bee-hunter, but poor Injin. Ebbery body hab his way--Injin got his.Peter laugh and very much friend, when he come home, den he mean tohab your scalp. If don't smile, and don't seem very much friend, butlook down, and t'ink, t'ink, t'ink, den he no mean to hurt you, buttry to get you out of hand of chiefs. Dat all."

　　As Pigeonswing concluded, he walked coolly away, leaving his friendto ruminate on the alternative of scalp or no scalp! The bee-hunternow understood the Chippewa perfectly. He was aware that this manhad means of his own to ascertain what was passing around him in theOpenings, and he had the utmost confidence in his integrity and goodwishes. If a red man is slow to forget an injury, he never forgets afavor. In this he was as unlike as possible to most of the pale-faces who were supplanting his race, for these last had, and have,as extraordinary a tenacity in losing sight of benefits, as theyhave in remembering wrongs.

　　By some means or other, it was now clear that Pigeonswing foresawthat a crisis was at hand. Had le Bourdon been as disconnected andsolitary as he was when he first met the Chippewa, it is notprobable that either the words or the manner of his friend wouldhave produced much impression on him, so little accustomed was he todwell on the hazards of his frontier position. But the case was nowaltogether changed. Margery and her claims stood foremost in hismind; and through Margery came Dolly and her husband. There was nomistaking Pigeonswing's intention. It was to give warning of someimmediate danger, and a danger that, in some way, was connected withthe deportment of Peter. It was easy enough to comprehend theallusions to the mysterious chief's smiles and melancholy; and thebee-hunter understood that he was to watch that Indian's manner, andtake the alarm or bestow his confidence accordingly.

　　Le Bourdon was not left long in doubt. Peter arrived about half-an-hour after Pigeonswing had gone to seek his rest; and from theinstant he came in sight, our hero discerned the thoughtful eye andmelancholy manner. These signs were still more obvious when thetribeless Indian came nearer; so obvious, indeed, as to strike morethan one of those who were interested observers of all that thisextraordinary being said and did. Among others, Margery was thefirst to see this change, and the first to let it influence her ownmanner. This she did, notwithstanding le Bourdon had said nothing toher on the subject, and in defiance of the bashful feelings of abride; which, under circumstances less marked, might have inducedher to keep more in the background. As Peter stopped at the springto quench his thirst, Margery was, in truth, the first to approachand to speak to him.

　　"You seem weary, Peter," said the young wife, somewhat timidly as tovoice and air, but with a decided and honest manifestation ofinterest in what she was about. Nor had Margery gone empty-handed.She took with her a savory dish, one of those that the men of thewoods love--meat cooked in its own juices, and garnished withseveral little additions, that her skill in the arts of civilizedlife enabled her to supply.

　　"You seem tired, Peter, and if I did not fear to say it, I shouldtell you that you also seem sad," said Margery, as she placed herdish on a rude table that was kept at the spot, for the convenienceof those who seldom respected hours, or regularity of any sort intheir meals. "Here is food that you like, which I have cooked withmy own hands."

　　The Indian looked intently at the timid and charming young creature,who came forward thus to contribute to his comforts, and thesaddened expression of his countenance deepened. He was fatigued andhungry, and he ate for some time without speaking, beyond uttering abrief expression of his thanks. When his appetite was appeased,however, and she who had so sedulously attended to his wants wasabout to remove the remains of the dish, he signed with his fingerfor her to draw nearer, intimating that he had something to say.Margery obeyed without hesitation, though the color flitted in herface like the changes in an evening sky. But so much good will andconfidence had been awakened between these two, that a daughterwould not have drawn near to a father with more confidence thanMargery stood before Peter.

　　"Medicine-man do what I tell him, young squaw, eh?" demanded Peter,smiling slightly, and for the first time since they had met.

　　"By medicine-man do you mean Mr. Amen, or Bourdon?" the bride askedin her turn, her whole face reflecting the confusion she felt,scarcely knowing why.

　　"Bot'. One medicine-man say his prayer; t'odder medicine-man takeyoung squaw's hand, and lead her into his wigwam. Dat what I mean."

　　"I am married to Bourdon," returned Margery, dropping her eyes tothe ground, "if that be what you wish to know. I hope you think Ishall have a good husband, Peter."

　　"Hope so, too--nebber know till time come. All good for littlewhile--Injin good, squaw good. Juss like weadder. Sometime rain--sometime storm--sometime sunshine. Juss so wid Injin, juss so widpale-face. No difference. All same. You see dat cloud?--he littlenow; but let wind blow, he grow big, and you see nuttin' but cloud.Let him have plenty of sunshine, and he go away; den all clear overhead. Dat bess way to live wid husband."

　　"And that is the way which Bourdon and I will always live together.When we get back among our own people, Peter, and are livingcomfortably in a pale-face wigwam, with pale-face food, and pale-face drinks, and all the other good things of pale-face housekeepingabout us, then I hope you will come and see how happy we are, andpass some time with us. Every year I wish you to come and see us,and to bring us venison, and Bourdon will give you powder, and lead,and blankets, and all you may want, unless it be fire-water. Fire-water he has promised never again to give to an Injin."

　　"No find any more whiskey-spring, eh?" demanded Peter, greatlyinterested in the young woman's natural and warm-hearted manner ofproposing her hospitalities. "So bess--so bess. Great curse forInjin. Plenty honey, no fire-water. All dat good. And I come, if--"

　　Here Peter stopped, nor could all Margery's questions induce him tocomplete the sentence. His gaze at the earnest countenance of thebride was such as to give her an indefinite sort of uneasiness, notto say a feeling of alarm.

　　Still no explanation passed between them. Margery remained nearPeter for some time, administering to his wants, and otherwisedemeaning herself much as a daughter might have done. At length leBourdon joined them. The salutations were friendly, and the mannerin which the mysterious chief regarded the equally mysterious bee-hunter, was not altogether without a certain degree of awe. Bodenperceived this, and was not slow to comprehend that he owed thisaccession of influence to the scene which had occurred on theprairie.

　　"Is the great council ended, Peter?" asked the bee-hunter, when thelittle interval of silence had been observed.

　　"Yes, it over. No more council, now, on Prairie Round."

　　"And the chiefs--have they all gone on their proper paths? What hasbecome of my old acquaintance, Crowsfeather? and all the rest ofthem--Bear's Meat, in particular?"

　　"All gone. No more council now. Agree what to do and so go away."

　　"But are red men always as good as their words? do they performalways what they promise?"

　　"Sartain. Ebbery man ought do what he say. Dat Injin law--no pale-face law, eh?"

　　"It may be the law, Peter, and a very good law it is; but we whitemen do not always mind our own laws."

　　"Dat bad--Great Spirit don't like dat," returned Peter, lookinggrave, and slowly shaking his head. "Dat very bad. When Injin say hedo it, den he do it, if he can. If can't, no help for it. Send squawaway now, Bourdon--bess not to let squaw hear what men say, or willalways want to hear."

　　Le Bourdon laughed, as he turned to Margery and repeated thesewords. The young wife colored, but she took it in good part, and ranup toward the palisaded lodge, like one who was glad to be rid ofher companions. Peter waited a few moments, then turning his headslowly in all directions, to make sure of not being overheard, hebegan to lay open his mind.

　　"You been on Prairie Round, Bourdon--you see Injin dere--chief,warrior, young men, hunter, all dere."

　　"I saw them all, Peter, and a goodly sight it was--what betweenpaint, and medals, and bows and arrows and tomahawks, and all yourbravery!"

　　"You like to see him, eh? Yes; he fine t'ing to look at. Well, datcouncil call togedder by me--you know dat, too, Bourdon?"

　　"I have heard you say that such was your intention, and I supposeyou did it, chief. They tell me you have great power among your ownpeople, and that they do very much as you tell them to do."

　　Peter looked graver than ever at this remark; and one of hisstartling gleams of ferocity passed over his dark countenance. Thenhe answered with his customary self-command.

　　"Sometime so," he said; "sometime not so. Yesterday, not so. Dere ischief dat want to put Peter under his foot! He try, but he no do it!I know Peter well, and know dat chief, too."

　　"This is news to me, Peter, and I am surprised to hear it. I didthink that even the great Tecumthe was scarcely as big a chief asyou are yourself."

　　"Yes, pretty big chief; dat true. But, among Injin, ebbery man canspeak, and nebber know which way council go. Sometime he go one way;sometime he go tudder. You hear Bough of Oak speak, eh? Tell medat?"

　　"You will remember that I heard none of your speakers on PrairieRound, Peter. I do not remember any such orator as this Bough ofOak."

　　"He great rascal," said Peter, who had picked up some of thegarrison expressions among those from whom he acquired the knowledgeof English he possessed, such as it was. "Listen, Bourdon. Nebberbess stand too much in Peter's way."

　　The bee-hunter laughed freely at this remark; for his own successthe previous day, and the impression he had evidently made on thatoccasion, emboldened him to take greater liberties with themysterious chief than had been his wont.

　　"I should think that, Peter," cried the young man, gayly--"I shouldthink all that. For one, I should choose to get out of it. The pathyou travel is your own, and all wise men will leave you to journeyalong it in your own fashion."

　　"Yes; dat bess way," answered the great chief, with admirablesimplicity. "Don't like, when he says yes, to hear anudder chief sayno. Dat an't good way to do business."

　　These were expressions caught from the trading whites, and wereoften used by those who got their English from them. "I tell you onet'ing, Bourdon--dat Bough of Oak very foolish Injin if he put footon my path."

　　"This is plain enough, Peter," rejoined le Bourdon, who wasunconcernedly repairing some of the tools of his ordinary craft. "Bythe way, I am greatly in your debt, I learn, for one thing. Theytell me I've got my squaw in my wigwam a good deal sooner, by youradvice, than I might have otherwise done. Margery is now my wife, Isuppose you know; and I thank you heartily, for helping me to getmarried so much sooner than I expected to be."

　　Here Peter grasped Bourdon by the hand, and poured out his wholesoul, secret hopes, fears, and wishes. On this occasion he spoke inthe Indian dialect--one of those that he knew the bee-hunterunderstood. And we translate what he said freely into English,preserving as much of the original idiom as the change of languagewill permit.

　　"Listen, hunter of the bee, the great medicine of the pale-faces,and hear what a chief that knows the red men is about to tell you.Let my words go into your ears; let them stay in your mind. They arewords that will do you good. It is not wise to let such words comeout again by the hole through which they have just entered.

　　"My young friend knows our traditions. They do not tell us that theInjins were Jews; they tell us that the Manitou created them redmen. They tell us that our fathers used these hunting-grounds eversince the earth was placed on the back of the big tortoise whichupholds it. The pale-faces say the earth moves. If this be true, itmoves as slowly as the tortoise walks. It cannot have gone far sincethe Great Spirit lifted his hand off it. If it move, the hunting-grounds move with it, and the tribes move with their own hunting-grounds. It may be that some of the pale-faces are lost, but noInjin is lost--the medicine-priest is mistaken. He has looked sooften in his book, that he sees nothing but what is there. He doesnot see what is before his eyes, at his side, behind his back, ailaround him. I have known such Injins. They see but one thing; eventhe deer jump across their paths, and are not seen.

　　"Such are our traditions. They tell us that this land was given tothe red men, and not to pale-faces. That none but red men have anyright to hunt here. The Great Spirit has laws. He has told us theselaws. They teach us to love our friends, and to hate our enemies.You don't believe this, Bourdon?" observing the bee-hunter to wincea little, as if he found the doctrine bad.

　　"This is not what our priests tell us," answered le Bourdon. "Theytell us that the white man's God commands us to love all alike--todo good to our enemies, to love them that wish us harm, and to treatall men as we would wish men to treat us." Peter was a good dealsurprised at this doctrine, and it was nearly a minute before heresumed the discourse. He had recently heard it several times, andit was slowly working its way into his mind.

　　"Such are our traditions, and such are our laws. Look at me. Fiftywinters have tried to turn my hair white. Time can do that. The hairis the only part of an Injin that ever turns white; all the rest ofhim is red. That is his color. The game knows an Injin by his color.The tribes know him. Everything knows him by his color. He knows thethings which the Great Spirit has given him, in the same way. Hegets used to them, and they are his acquaintances. He does not likestrange things. He does not like strangers. White men are strangers,and he does not like to see them on his hunting-ground. If they comesingly, to kill a few buffaloes, or to look for honey, or to catchbeaver, the Injins would not complain. They love to give of theirabundance. The pale-faces do not come in this fashion. They do notcome as guests; they come as masters. They come and they stay. Eachyear of my fifty have I heard of new tribes that have been driven bythem toward the setting sun.

　　"Bourdon, for many seasons I have thought of this. I have tried tofind a way to stop them. There is but one. That way must the Injinstry, or give up their hunting-grounds to the strangers. No nationlikes to give up its hunting-grounds. They come from the Manitou,and one day he may ask to have them back again. What could the redmen say, if they let the pale-faces take them away? No; this wecannot do. We will first try the one thing that is to be done."

　　"I believe I understand you, Peter," observed le Bourdon, findingthat his companion paused. "You mean war. War, in the Injin mode ofredressing all wrongs; war against man, woman, and child!"

　　Peter nodded in acquiescence, fixing his glowing eyes on the bee-hunter's face, as if to read his soul.

　　"Am I to understand, then, that you and your friends, the chiefs andtheir followers, that I saw on Prairie Round, mean to begin with us,half-a-dozen whites, of whom two are women, who happen to be here inyour power--that our scalps are to be the first taken?"

　　"First!--no, Bourdon. Peter's hand has taken a great many, yearssince. He has got a name for his deeds, and no longer dare go to thewhite men's forts. He does not look for Yankees, he looks for pale-faces. When he meets a pale-face on the prairies, or in the woods,he tries to get his scalp. This has he done for years, and many hashe taken."

　　"This is a bloody account you are giving of yourself, Peter, and Iwould rather you should not have told it. Some such account I haveheard before; but living with you, and eating, and drinking, andsleeping, and travelling in your company, I had not only hoped, butbegun to think, it was not true."

　　"It is true. My wish is to cut off the pale-faces. This must bedone, or the pale-faces will cut off the Injins. There is no choice.One nation or the other must be destroyed. I am a red man; my hearttells me that the pale-faces should die. They are on strangehunting-grounds, not the red men. They are wrong, we are right. But,Bourdon, I have friends among the pale-faces, and it is not naturalto scalp our friends. I do not understand a religion that tells usto love our enemies, and to do good to them that do harm to us--itis a strange religion. I am a poor Injin, and do not know what tothink! I shall not believe that any do this, till I see it. Iunderstand that we ought to love our friends. Your squaw is mydaughter. I have called her daughter--she knows it, and my tongue isnot forked, like a snake's. What it says, I mean. Once I meant toscalp your young squaw, because she was a pale-face squaw, and mightbe the mother of more. Now I do not mean to scalp her; my hand shallnever harm her. My wisdom shall tell her to escape from the hands ofred men who seek her scalp. You, too; now you are her husband, andare a great medicine-man of the bees, my hand shall not hurt you,either. Open your ears wide, for big truths must go into them."

　　Peter then related in full his attempt to procure a safe passage forle Bourdon and Margery into the settlements, and its total failure.He owned that by his previous combinations he had awakened a spiritamong the Indians that his present efforts could not quell. In aword, he told the whole story as it must have been made apparent tothe reader, and he now came with his plans to defeat the veryschemes that he had himself previously projected. One thing,however, that he did not conceal, filled the mind of his listenerwith horror, and created so strong an aversion to acting in concertwith one who could even allude to it so coolly, that there wasdanger of breaking off all communications between the parties, andplacing the result purely on force; a course that must have provedtotally destructive to all the whites. The difficulty arose from anaive confession of Peter's, that he did not even wish to save anybut le Bourdon and Margery, and that he still desired the deaths ofall the others, himself!